Love Has Features Which Pierce All Hearts
by arineat
Summary: After another surviving another beating at his father's hands, Theo heads for the one place in the world he feels safe. Author's note: Mentions of non-graphic violence and child abuse may be triggers. Title is part of a quote by Voltaire.


Theo flinched as the sound of breaking glass met his ears, followed by the near-constant stream of shouts from his parents. His body ached as he hid, trembling, beneath his bed. Tears streamed down his face as he heard the sound of his father hitting his mum. In a rare and perplexing moment of maternal empathy, Mathilda Nott had stood up to her husband for hitting Theodore and now she was paying for it.

A wave of shame washed over Theo as he laid there. He should be out there, standing up for his mother. He should have the courage to fight the old man, but all the eleven-year-old could feel was fear and cowardice.

Finally, unable to take it any more, Theo dragged himself out from his hiding place, cradling his broken arm. Tears sprang to his eyes, despite all of his efforts to hold them back, as his body ached from the mere effort of standing. Gathering what was left of his strength, Theo moved to the fireplace and Flooed to the one place he knew he was safe.

"Malfoy Manor, Draco's bedroom."

Theo bit his lip to keep himself from crying out as he stumbled from the Floo and into Draco's room, knocking his injured arm in the process.

Draco's head shot up from the book he was reading, a sneer on his face as he no doubt readied himself to serve up a slice of verbal abuse for the interruption. The moment his eyes met Theo's, Draco's expression melted from derision to concern.

"Sweet Salazar, Theo, again?" he asked as he slid from the bed and hurried to Theo's side.

All Theo could do was nod, his body swaying as his energy waned and his legs threatened to give out. Draco pulled him close, his hands gentle as he led Theo to his bed. Once he'd helped him sit, Draco's hands began to wander, poking and prodding as he searched for broken bones. Theo simply closed his eyes and let Draco at it; he was more than used to it by now.

"That's the third time this week."

"I'm sorry," Theo mumbled, feeling another stab of shame. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Shut up, you idiot," Draco snapped, though his tone was more exasperated than angry. "You know I didn't mean it like that. So what happened this time?"

He asked the question casually, though Theo could see the rage burning in his silver eyes. Draco's eyes always shone brightest when he was angry.

"I was clumsy at dinner and knocked over my glass."

Theo watched with something akin to fascination as the muscle in Draco's jaw clenched and ticked as he obviously struggled not to speak. Draco knew by now that all his threats and promises of retribution in Theo's name only served to make Theo feel worse. He was terrified that Draco might someday actually attempt to avenge him and, in doing so, get himself seriously hurt or even killed. Augustus Nott had no compunctions about hurting someone else's child. Even Lucius Malfoy's son.

Theo winced as Draco's fingers delicately examined the break in his arm.

"I'm going to have to reset it," he said, a sympathetic grimace twisting his lips.

Theo nodded resolutely, refusing to show his fear. "Do it."

With one swift swish and a well-practiced incantation, the bone snapped back into place with an audible click. Theo clenched his jaw around the cry that rose in his throat, stifling it even as tears sprang to his eyes and betrayed his pain. Draco, as always, ignored them as he cast the spell to mend the bone, his fingers prodding at the tender area to double-check his work.

It was a testament to how horrible Theo's home life was that a first-year Hogwarts student could perform such high-level healing spells.

"Shirt off," Draco ordered as he moved to his bedside table and withdrew a small jar.

Theo obeyed, his movements stiff and tortured as he slowly slid his shirt up and over his head. Draco's lips pursed and his eyes burned brighter as he saw the mess that was Theo's torso. Rather than commenting, Draco dutifully dipped his fingers into the healing-salve and began to spread it over the multitude of cuts and bruises that littered Theo's flesh.

Theo fought between the desire to close his eyes so that he could soak up the sensation of being touched so gently and the need to keep them open to take comfort in the knowledge that at least one person in the world truly cared about him. No matter how often they argued or how much of a prat Draco could be, he had never failed to be there for Theo when he really needed him. He was always there to pick up the pieces and put them back together again.

A wave of love so deep and pure rose up in him that Theo had to close his eyes against it and he bit his tongue to keep the words from flying out against his will. He had loved Draco for as long as he could remember, but he had no idea how he would react if Theo ever got the courage to tell him.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Theo had an feeling that it would end horribly. He knew it wasn't right to love another boy. Not the way that Theo loved Draco. It wasn't natural. His father had beaten that fact into Theo five years before when he'd unwittingly told him that he loved his best friend and wated to stay with him forever.

Theo had no doubt that Lucius had taught Draco the same thing. Pureblood wizards were meant to grow up and marry pureblood witches and make pureblood babies. Pureblooded wizards were not meant to fall in love with other pureblood wizards and run off with one another to live happily ever after, no matter how often he daydreamed about it. Theo was certain that if Draco ever deduced his ridiculous fantasies, he'd never speak to him again. There was no way he could tell his best friend how he felt; not without losing Draco forever.

"That's you sorted. Here."

Draco handed Theo a pair of fine silk pyjamas and moved away to reorganise his pillows, turning so that Theo could undress. Barely a moment after Theo had finished buttoning the top, Draco turned and crawled into bed, beckoning silently to Theo. Too tired to protest and badly needing the comfort, Theo climbed onto the bed, ignoring the dull ache of protest from his newly-healed arm.

Without a word between them, Draco pulled Theo close, allowing him to burrow into the warmth of his body, and picked up his discarded book. Draco's hand began to stroke through Theo's hair, as it always did in times like these. As if it had a mind of its own. They never spoke about it, but Theo liked to think it was because Draco enjoyed the closeness and touching as much as he did.

"'Love has features which pierce all hearts, he wears a bandage which conceals the faults of those beloved. He has wings, he comes quickly and flies away the same.'" Draco said softly, reading from his book.

Theo closed his eyes and lost himself in the beauty of Draco's voice, the soft lilt of cultured tones. He let himself forget about the repercussions of fleeing Nott Manor and the punishments that surely awaited him in the morning. All that he knew was the sound of Draco's voice, the feel of his hand in his hair and the rise and fall of his chest as he made a gradual decent into sleep.

"I love you, Draco," he murmured.

In his dream, Draco replied, "I love you, too."


End file.
